Olivia threw her rolling suitcase into the corner of her room and sat down on the corner of her bed. It was bittersweet to be back in Evanston. The smell of the late November air, the changing colors of Lake Michigan, the idea of being almost done with a successful semester of classes, all of that made her happy. But being on the outs with Emily, and having spoken to Fitz only once since Wednesday, left a big hole in her heart that she wasn't sure how to repair.

Having time to think about their last conversation at her house, she was furious with him for putting her on the spot and asking how she would feel if he changed his future plans. It wasn't fair, mostly because he knew when he asked her what her answer would be, and yet he asked anyway. And for him to just assume that she would love him less made her question his confidence in their love, which only hours before had seemed unshakable.

It wasn't that she thought Fitz should be unmoved by the actions and words of his family. She understood the conflict he was feeling. And she had meant it when she said she would support him, no matter what. The more she thought about it, after he had left her standing at her bedroom window, the more she realized that maybe she had unintentionally put him on a pedestal because he had always been different with her. Kind, but confident. Smart, but humble.

She was mostly angry not that he was considering changing his plans, but that he had made it somehow partly her fault, or having to do with her, when it really didn't. They had been together for a semester, and yes, they loved each other very much. But he seemed to have categorized her as someone who pressured him, and she resented that. If he had given her a chance to explain, time to think, and not sprung the conversation on her in the way that he had, she wondered if things would have been different.

But a part of her had realized on the flight back to Chicago that this was probably going to happen eventually. Now, or when Fitz graduated, they were going to have to figure out where they stood. So maybe he had done them both a favor by putting it all out there and had saved them some heartache by forcing their hands months before she had been expecting.

It was Saturday night, and she would spend the night alone in her house. Emily, being from Chicago, wouldn't return until the next day. The same for Jo, who would leave Indiana in the morning with her old car full of food cooked by her mom that would last them a week.

She reached for her carry-on bag and grabbed her journal. Opening the pen, she found herself frozen. She could think of nothing to write about, despite her head feeling like it was spinning in one million directions. She flipped on the television and watched a movie she had seen at least a dozen times before finally falling asleep on top of the covers.

Fitz sat at the airport on Saturday night, his flight delayed due to mechanical problems. He had hoped to get back to Evanston in time to see Olivia before any of her roommates returned.

He leaned back in the uncomfortable airport chair and closed eyes. The last week had been a roller coaster. He was smarter than that metaphor, but it was the best way he could think of to describe it. He had been so lonely, and then so euphoric seeing Olivia running down the stairs toward him. His time with her family had been a reminder that families, despite each having their own set of issues, can still be strong and united. Then he got the call from Heidi, who had been distraught to the point that he could barely understand her. The ranch was being emptied. Animals were being sold. Their dad was a nightmare, their mother inconsolable. Fitz thought he might have even heard his mom in the background.

And then the conversation, the argument, with Olivia. He knew it hadn't gone the way he had wanted, but then why was he surprised? He was never good at communicating with women. Except for Liv. But he had massively messed up the message on Wednesday. He had been trying to gauge how she would feel if he made a change in his plans, to see if she would be on board, but instead it had turned into a discussion about her support for him, her love, when he knew deep down that those things were real. When she didn't walk him to the car, he realized just how far she had moved from his grasp, but what choice did he have? He was being called home.

He had finally arrived at home after an hour drive from the airport late on Wednesday night. Heidi had let him in because his parents had been asleep. It seemed, compared to the last time he had been there, like a ghost town. Less pillows on the couches, no photos on the refrigerator. He was happy it had been dark. He spent hours talking to Heidi, filling her in on what had been happening. She was mad, but just as conflicted as he was.

When he heard his father start mulling around the kitchen on Thanksgiving, he had dressed and gone to speak with him. The sun was just rising over the land. It was beautiful. For the first time, they had a civilized conversation. Maybe it was the sunrise. Or maybe it was that his dad was still half asleep. But Fitz had been able to say what he needed to say and also hear what his dad was thinking.

It came down to trust. And control. His dad placed a lot of value on both, and he felt like Fitz didn't. Fitz provided a number of ways he felt like the ranch could stay in the family, and at moments he thought perhaps he had been getting through to his dad. But the process had been started, and there were a couple of people or groups interested. Despite the reasons, Fitz still couldn't wrap his brain around his father giving up what had been in the family for generations for seemingly no reason. He had said as much, then watched as his father took a sip of coffee and contemplated his next words carefully.

"Fitz, I'm tired. I always assumed you would come around. To be honest, I just don't want to do this anymore, and I figured you would change your mind. I don't regret the ultimatum. You're a grown man and you'll be faced with tough decisions in life, this perhaps being the first. But I can respect your reasons, even if I think you're making the wrong choice. And son, that's the most you're going to get from me."

Fitz set his own mug on the counter.

"I really appreciate that, Dad. And I hear you saying that you don't trust a cousin, or even Heidi, to do it. But think about what you're giving up. I think you'll regret that. I really do."

"Maybe, but it's my choice."

"You say that, but you make it seem like I'm making it for you. Like I'm the reason you're selling. So that means it really isn't your choice. You've put the responsibility on me. Why not just say that you don't want to do it anymore? Why force me to choose?"

"Because, Fitz. You're a good man. Your mother raised you right. I know I don't tell you that enough. But you are, and in my heart of hearts, in a place I don't show a lot of people, I truly felt you would choose family over a career. Or a girl. Or a city."

Fitz sighed.

"It's my life, Dad."

His father nodded.

"I know. And maybe I'm just jealous that you have the gall to choose it for yourself rather than cater to the needs of your father, the way I did."

And there it was. Fitz held his breath, waiting to see what happened next.

"Dammit," his dad said, putting both hands on the counter. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted you to do what I did. Validate my choice. Something like that."

"That means a lot, Dad."

"It doesn't mean I don't think you're making the wrong choice."

Fitz laughed quietly. "I know. You've made that clear."

His dad laughed a little too.

"Dad, seriously. Can't you just hire someone to run the place, but still live here? Oversee it? Why does it have to be so drastic?"

They stood looking at each other.

"Because I was trying to manipulate you into being me."

"Right, and you almost had me."

His dad sighed. "Will you take a look at some of these contracts? Let me know what you think? Maybe there's another way."

Fitz and his dad spent the day after Thanksgiving looking at numbers, and options and had ultimately agreed that it was all in good enough shape to be managed and run but someone else while still allowing Fitz's dad to have a supervisory role and live in the house his grandfather had built. Fitz helped his dad make notes, prepare for upcoming meetings and anticipate any pushback from adversaries. When they emerged from the study on Friday afternoon, and Fitz saw Heidi and his mother playing Scrabble at the kitchen table, he immediately thought of Olivia. He had spoken to her on Thursday morning, early, before he had talked to his dad. But that had been it. It had been short. Not at all their usual banter, and longing, and love. When he knew he had done what he had gone to the ranch to do, he was on his iPad booking a flight to Chicago.

Olivia wasn't sure if the buzzing was in her dream or real until her cell phone fell off her desk where she had left it. She woke to realize she was still dressed in black leggings and a light grey cardigan, the same thing she had traveled in. Though it was the middle of the night, she was going to take advantage of the empty house and shower. With all of the lights on. And maybe some candles.

That had been her plan until she saw that she had four missed calls from Fitz. She didn't feel ready to talk to him, so she set her phone down and started digging through her suitcase for her bathroom supplies.

She was about to start the water in the shower when she thought she heard a light knocking. She knew from when she had looked at her phone that it was nearly 3:00 in the morning. She figured she was hearing things until she heard it again. She grabbed her flatiron from her suitcase, the only weapon she could think of, and tiptoed down the stairs. She was glad she had left the porch light on and knew she'd be able to peak through a side window.

It turns out she didn't have to. Because Fitz was so tall, and because she would recognize his hair in any light, she could tell it was him before she was at the bottom of the steps. She stopped for a moment, but only a moment, before proceeding to the door and opening it slowly. She rested her head on the door.

"In the neighborhood?" she said, mimicking her words when he had shown up at her parents' house earlier in the week.

He smiled. "Just yours."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, with hints of sadness and curiosity.

"I came straight from the airport. I'm sorry it's so late, my plane was delayed."

Olivia just nodded, but said nothing.

"I don't deserve to come in, so let me just," Fitz began.

"Stop!" she replied, louder than she had meant.

He looked at her quizzically.

"Stop declaring what you do and do not deserve. I won't spend my life making you feel better about yourself with affirmations and pep talks. You're better than that. And so am I."

She surprised herself. She had had so many thoughts swirling around and had been unable to pinpoint what was bothering her until this moment, seeing Fitz in front of her and hearing him sell himself short.

"Liv, that's who I am. I have never felt like I was enough. This isn't a new development. You knew this."

"You're right," she agreed. "But I thought that together we made each other, I don't know, more peaceful. More at peace. And now here you are being so self-deprecating that I just don't know who you are. Or what to think."

He pondered this before speaking again.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't know who I am. And you don't know what to think. But how do you feel?"

"I feel confused."

He sighed. "I get that, Liv. That was my roundabout way of asking if you still love me."

She threw up her hands. "Do you honestly think I could fall out of love with you in less than a week? That you changing and being confusing would make me not love you?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't be asking if I did."

She gave him just a hint of a smile. She loved the way he could think about things both concretely and theoretically.

"Of course I love you. God, Fitz. I have never loved anyone before, not in this way."

He started to walk toward her, but she put her hand up.

"I love you. But I'm really mad at you."

He stepped back onto the porch.

"I'm really mad that you left. I'm really mad that you didn't call. I'm really mad that I kept making this my fault, even though my brain knows that isn't the case. I'm mad that you show up here, being you, and my heart just wants you to come in and make it all better."

He nodded, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

"I'm so sorry for leaving. It was wrong, but it was also right. Leaving was the right thing to do, which I can explain, but the way I did it, the way I left you, that was wrong. I'm sorry."

She started to speak, but it was his turn to put a hand up.

"There's a lot I want to tell you, but I don't know how much longer this door will be open, so please let me just say that I love you so much. I love so much that anything we've ever done, seen or spoken about reminds me of you when you aren't around. And you do bring me peace. And happiness. And everything good. I just need you to know that, no matter how poorly I handled our last goodbye, I really don't want it to be the last one."

She crossed her arms and looked at him.

"I'm going to take a shower," she finally said.

He just looked at her.

"I'm not inviting you to join me. But if you want to come in, we can talk when I'm done."

He nodded.

She held the door open and ushered him inside. They made their way upstairs and he settled on her bed, content just to rest, while she rinsed off and tried to make sense of the last ten minutes of her life.

When she got back to her room wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt, she stopped and took in what she saw. Fitz was asleep, she could tell by the look on his face and the way he was breathing. His hands were on his chest and he looked content. It struck her then that she didn't really want to talk anymore tonight. She just wanted to go to sleep next to the man that had, for the most part, changed her life for the better. They could deal with the rest in the morning.

The sun started shining through the crack in the shades just after it rose over the lake. Olivia was sleeping, under the covers this time, facing Fitz but not touching him. He woke and realized that she must have decided to go to bed rather than talk. He didn't know what it meant. But she hadn't kicked him out, and he knew that meant something, too.

He slowly rolled over to be facing her and took her in. No makeup. Curly hair. He wondered why her flatiron had been on the stairs on their way up but hadn't gotten around to asking. She was lovely, now and always.

She stirred and he stayed still, hoping not to wake her. Her big brown eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," she said in a whisper.

"Morning," he said. "Thanks for letting me sleep over."

"Of course. It's always better when you're here anyway."

He didn't want to take anything for granted, so he just let that float between them.

"How'd it go with your dad?" she asked, pulling the covers up under her chin.

He explained what had happened. She kept a straight face, nodded occasionally but said nothing.

"I'm surprised," she said when he was done.

"As am I. I was expecting a knock-down, drag-out event. But I think it's sorted out. And I got some answers, you know, the 'why' of my dad's thinking. That's what I was missing, you know? It just didn't make sense."

"It didn't. But it does now. He's envious."

Fitz thought about that. "I guess he is, yeah."

She picked a piece of lint off of his lightweight sweater.

"You can't be comfortable," she said.

"No complaints."

She smiled.

"I was, no, I am, just so frustrated at how you turned it on me. You had to go, I understand. But you made it seem like I was judging you, which I wasn't. I was simply being honest. That hurt me."

He put a hand on her cheek and was happy when she didn't move.

"I know. I'm so sorry. It was wrong of me. No matter what I was going through, I shouldn't have made it about us."

A tear escaped her eye and he wiped it away using his thumb.

"But," he said, "it felt like it might be. In my head, I have our future mapped out. And it felt like I was about to tear that up and start over. And I was worried that you wouldn't want to be a part of something different."

"You didn't really give me a chance to think about it, though."

"I know."

"What does the map look like now?" she asked.

"It looks like you and me, always."

"Do I live on a ranch and make chicken pot pie every night?"

He laughed. "Are you sure you haven't met my mom? No. It's you and me doing what we love while loving each other. I hope."

She sighed.

"I hope so, too."

He scooted closer to her.

"Yeah?"

"Of course. And listen, I'll tell you every day how amazing you are. How wonderful you make me feel. How you're the one and only Fitz for me. Last night, when I said I wouldn't give you daily affirmations, that was a little harsh. But you have to know that I believe in you. And I will be with you no matter what, as long as you don't shut me out. And as long as you don't assume the worst of me, of us."

"Okay."

"Promise?" she said, letting him put his arms around her.

"Promise," he said, kissing the top of her head.

They fell back asleep in each other's arms and woke when they heard Emily and her parents coming inside. There wasn't a lot of time because it would be rude for Olivia not to greet them, even though she and Emily were not on the best of terms.

"Stay here," Olivia said. "I'll be back in ten or less."

"Where else am I going to go?" he said.

She put on jeans and a bra and smiled as she watched him watch her.

"I love you," she said, straddling him on the bed, putting her hands on his chest.

"I love you too," he said, running his hands up and down her arms.

There was a pause. Neither of them sure what to do next, both knowing what they wanted. Olivia was glad when Fitz made the first move, bringing his hands to her neck and pulling her face down to his for a kiss. She ended up on her said, laying next to him with her leg wrapped around his waist. She hadn't kissed him like this in so many days that it felt like years.

He pulled away first.

"You should go, or it'll be too late."

She blushed and gave him one last kiss before bouncing off of the bed.

"Stay right there," she said, backing out of the room. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Still mad?" he asked with a smile.

"Just that it took so long to get to there," she said, pointing to the bed.

"We've got all the time in the world."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you said that. If you had said, 'We've got forever,' I might have had to throw you out."

He threw a pillow at her.

"What?" she squealed. "That's cheesy."

"You make me want to be cheesy," he said.

"Should we get some nachos after this?" she said with a sly smile.

She closed the door as another pillow came sailing across the room. She smiled to herself as she walked downstairs. She could hear him laughing all the way from the first floor.

She was happy. He was happy. They had sorted through their first real fight, and had come out on the other side better for it. She knew it wouldn't be the last fight, but she agreed with him that she hoped it would be their last disastrous goodbye. Forever.